


Proxy

by BrighteyedJill



Category: Heroes - Fandom, Star Trek (2009)
Genre: Crossover, M/M, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-08-30
Updated: 2009-08-30
Packaged: 2017-11-11 06:58:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/475820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrighteyedJill/pseuds/BrighteyedJill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim can’t spend shore leave with the man he wants, but he finds someone interested in just how <i>special</i> he is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Proxy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Moorishflower](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moorishflower/gifts).



> **Author’s Notes** : Written for CEO [](http://moorishflower.livejournal.com/profile)[**moorishflower**](http://moorishflower.livejournal.com/) for [](http://heroes-exchange.livejournal.com/profile)[**heroes_exchange**](http://heroes-exchange.livejournal.com/)  
> 

Jim Kirk sighed contentedly into the rumpled sheets of this hotel room bed. So far this shore leave—a rare one on Earth—had been well spent (in bed). What wasn’t spent in any sense was the man lying next to him. The pleasant ache in Jim’s ass attested to the fact that this man had excellent stamina and recovery time.

 

In fact, Kirk was considering asking for tips when the man reached for him again, curling his hand around Kirk’s waist and effortlessly dragging him back against his body, where his hardening cock rested warm against the small of Kirk’s back.

 

The hands were almost right. Of course, this human—Sylar, even his name began with the right letter—wouldn’t experience the same tactile input from his hands as some other species, but when Kirk ran a finger languidly across Sylar’s grip, it was easy enough to fantasize about the reaction an alien—maybe a Vulcan—would have to that touch.

 

“Tell me again what you like about me,” Kirk demanded. He rocked back against Sylar.

 

Before answering, Sylar dragged a hand from Kirk’s hip to the crease of his ass. Two fingers easily slid inside Kirk’s well-used entrance, which was still slick with lube and come. “You let me do this,” he said.

 

Kirk pressed further back to take in more. He was too fucked out to get hard yet, but his dick was certainly making a valiant effort. Sylar stroked his fingers expertly across just the right spot to make Kirk go boneless and slack. “Nugh,” he said encouragingly.

 

“You’re a powerful man, Captain Kirk.” Sylar kept his fingers moving. “But here you are, panting and moaning like a whore.”

 

Kirk just laughed. “Well, I’m a humanitarian. I like to spend time with the little people.”

 

With a growl, Sylar ripped out his fingers and shoved his cock in, hard and huge—god, not little, not little—and he wondered (hypothetically, of course) if a half-Vulcan would feel anything like this.

 

They were both too tired to do more than rock together at the moment, but Sylar held Kirk to him, screwed into him slowly, and muttered into his ear. “I want to know about this power you seem to have over everyone you meet. You inspire people. They love you.”

 

“I don’t know if they love me,” Kirk grunted. “Most of them just want to get into my pants.”

 

“I’m talking about your command, _Captain_ ,” Sylar said, punctuating the word with a jerk of his hips that got him in all the way, filling Kirk up pleasantly. The stirring in Kirk’s belly spread to his dick.

 

“Yeah, keep calling me that,” Kirk instructed. “It’s definitely working for me.”

 

The timbre of Sylar’s voice was so similar to the one Kirk longed to hear. He could almost imagine that familiar inflection, _”Captain,”_ pitched to convey disapproval in so many subtle ways, no matter how often Kirk asked to be called Jim.

 

Sylar moved inside of him, slow and lazy. His hands ran up and down Kirk’s body as if he were trying to memorize every line and plane of him. “What is it about you?” Sylar whispered, “That makes men willing to follow you, even die for you? What makes you so special?”

 

Kirk snapped his hips back sharply, and smiled to hear Sylar’s breath catch in his throat. “A certain je ne sais quoi,” he chuckled. He clenched his ass tight around Sylar just to press his advantage. His tactics seemed to work against Sylar, but Kirk somehow doubted that charm, bravado, and his very fine ass would be enough to win over a particularly reserved Starfleet officer.

 

“Hm.” Sylar reached for him, and Kirk was surprised to discover that he’d gotten hard again as Sylar fucked him and whispered to him. “All that power,” Sylar said, “And you still can’t get the one you want.”

 

Kirk craned his neck to glance over his shoulder, and Sylar stared back at him quizzically, as if trying to puzzle him out. The expression sent a shudder of lust through Kirk, and his dick jumped in Sylar’s hand. “At least I know what I want,” Kirk said, slapping on a cocky grin.

 

Sylar pushed Kirk onto his belly and began to thrust in to him harder. His hands pinned Kirk’s wrists, trapping him face down against the rumpled covers. Kirk ground his swollen cock against the comforter, ignoring the scratch of fabric on already over-sensitized skin. He reveled in the feeling of being pinned, held down by someone who was his equal—perhaps even his superior—in strength. He reminded himself that Vulcans were easily twice as strong as humans, and that even a half-Vulcan would have no trouble at all putting Kirk in his place.

 

“Who are you thinking about?” Sylar panted in his ear as he resumed his movements, fucking Kirk faster now. “Who is it you can’t have, captain?”

 

“Come on,” Kirk moaned. He made another attempt to free his hands so he could touch himself, but Sylar held him tight. “I’m close.”

 

“You’re a leader of men, captain. A hero. And yet this man, whoever he is, has real power over you.” Sylar slammed his hips forward, burying himself to the hilt and marking Kirk squirm in pleasure.

 

“He could make you do anything he wanted to. He could put you on your knees and make you beg. He could break you.”

 

“He wouldn’t,” Kirk panted. He humped into the sheets, desperate for friction as the image came too easily of him on his knees, reaching to push up a blue shirt and unbutton black uniform pants.

 

“Who is he?” Sylar demanded, rough and hot as he fucked Kirk into the mattress. “Who do you wish I was?”

 

Kirk shook his head. He closed his eyes and let himself imagine being on the ship, the bed below him the narrower ship-standard bunk, the voice in his ear one with a dry, cultured edge, the hands holding him down warmer than a human’s by several degrees.

 

“Who do you want? Tell me. Say his name,” Sylar demanded. “Tell me!”

 

He shoved a hand under Kirk’s body to pull roughly at his cock, and Kirk came with a jerk of his hips and an inadvertent shout of “Spock!”

 

Sylar thrust into him a few more times, and then went still and silent as he emptied himself into Kirk. They both slumped, exhausted, back onto the filthy, damp sheets.

 

Jim felt sleep threatening to drag him under, but he had to have the last word. “For the record,” he slurred. “My _ability_ is not limited to being a fine piece of ass. I happen to be a very competent starship captain.”

 

Sylar mumbled, “Fascinating.”


End file.
